


In Your End Was My Beginning

by Thymesis



Series: Star Wars Rare Pairs Collection (NC-17) [26]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Age Difference, Cross-Generation Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Father/Son Incest, First Time, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Third Person, Prequel Trilogy Anakin, Sequel Trilogy Luke, Slow Burn, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2019-06-12 04:59:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15332322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thymesis/pseuds/Thymesis
Summary: A young Anakin Skywalker is transported through time and space to the site of the first Jedi temple.There is only one other being currently in residence on Ahch-To. He says his name is Luke.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thedevilchicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/gifts).



> …who saw my Anakin Skywalker (SW PT)/Luke Skywalker (SW ST) crossover fandom tagset nomination for Fandom 5K and decided she wanted this pairing. It’s damn lucky we didn’t match on it—I would’ve struggled to do this idea justice within the exchange’s writing period!
> 
> In any case, I don’t know if this’ll be the “fic of your dreams” (or anyone else’s!), but let’s find out together, shall we? :-)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin and Obi-Wan take an impromptu tour of the abandoned Jedi temple on Lothal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: Although I am posting this story with a Teen rating now, the rating will eventually change to Explicit. (In other words, there will be Anakin/Luke sex scenes…eventually. I will give you fair warning before that happens!)

“I didn’t know the Jedi Order had more than one temple. No one’s ever mentioned any others. I thought the temple on Coruscant was _it_.”

Obi-Wan chuckled and took the sort of deliberate deep breath that Anakin knew, from ten years of experience training alongside his Master, presaged a long and thoroughly boring lecture. “At present, my young apprentice, you are correct: The one on Coruscant _is_ the only active temple. The Ruusan Reformation enacted after the New Sith Wars regularized the initiate training provision and sited the academy at the temple on Coruscant, and in time, the Order’s satellite temples were abandoned and leadership was further reduced and centralized—”

Yep, sure enough. There he went. Anakin suppressed an impatient groan with only the most supreme of personal efforts. He upped the speed of his steps in attempt to outpace Obi-Wan’s prattle, but of course that was an exercise in utter futility—Obi-Wan simply increased the speed of his own steps to maintain his position beside Anakin.

“—but in the past, the Jedi Order maintained numerous temples of greater or less standing scattered throughout the known galaxy, such as this one on Lothal,” Obi-Wan continued, didactic, annoying, and heedless—or perhaps consciously ignoring—Anakin’s active disinterest, “each with its own variant monastic practices, oral histories, and local color. Take these murals, for example.” Obi-Wan gestured toward the ancient artworks covering the exterior walls of the Lothal temple’s central stupa. “This one depicts shamanistic beliefs related to the planet’s indigenous charismatic megafauna, which we no longer—”

Anakin rearranged his facial expression into one approximating serious contemplation, and then he stopped listening to Obi-Wan entirely. Who even cared about mangy lothwolves anyway? Idly, he ran the palm of his hand over a looping line of carved writing in a script he couldn’t read and noted, with no small amount of irritation, that the surface layer flaked off at his touch and blew away on the incessant Lothal prairie wind.

Sandstone, bleh. The walls were sandstone. Sandstone that was crumbling back into its constituent grains of sand. Double bleh. Gods, Anakin _hated_ sand. How grateful he was that he didn’t spend most of his time in a Jedi temple made of sand like this one!

Truth be told, he vastly preferred the permacrete and transparisteel of the Coruscanti ecumenopolis. Cities were more Anakin Skywalker’s speed. That one in particular…especially now that Padmé, in spite of the endless manufactured scandals and terrorist threats which had plagued her first term, had won reelection to Naboo’s seat on the Galactic Senate and was expected to return within a standard week…and he could hardly wait to see her again in the flesh…and the endlessly replayed recordings of HoloNet footage of Padmé’s lovely visage _just weren’t enough to satisfy him anymore_ …

“Ah! How remarkable!” Obi-Wan had come to a halt in front of what he clearly deemed a most impressive mural. “Figural representations of aspects of the Force are regarded as heretical under current Order statute, never mind the discredited tripartite conceptualization of—”

Now Obi-Wan was gawping at a stylized image of an old dude with a long white beard, flanked by a sinister-looking man and a beautiful woman? Anakin wanted to bang his forehead against this mural. Repeatedly. Anything, anything at all, to make this torment stop.

“—don’t subscribe to such outmoded practices myself, but… Oh, my word! The mural appears to have been attuned to the Force…hmm… Well, well, well. Extraordinary! It functions rather like a lock, and the Force user is meant to act as the key—”

And so, yeah? So what? Yaaaawn. They’d successfully completed their mission on Ansion, one border dispute resolved; so why did they have to make a completely unnecessary stopover on this awful Outer Rim backwater just to _sightsee_?! He’d been having a very bad feeling for quite a while. It was high time to see Padmé again, he knew, if only to assuage these infernal anxieties, and time was being totally wasted by Obi-Wan’s eccentric art-appreciating whims! Sometimes, Anakin was dead certain that the Jedi High Council had made him Obi-Wan’s Padawan learner simply to punish him for having the audacity to aspire to become a Jedi in the first place—

Hey, wait a minute. Did that lothwolf in the mural just… _move_?! Anakin blinked. And blinked again. Shit! It did move! And now it was taking a little loping stroll around that bend…

“Erm, Anakin, where are you going?” Obi-Wan called out, baffled, as Anakin took off at a sprint after the two-dimensional lothwolf. “Come back. I want you to take a look at—”

“I’ll only be a minute, Master!” Anakin yelled. “I could’ve sworn I saw— Whoa.”

He skidded to a halt. The lothwolf from the mural Obi-Wan had been inspecting had found an entire pack of lothwolves to join, and they were dancing together, and the Force was alive with lonely, mournful howls of song, and the lothwolfpack dance was forming a circle, which was transforming this section of the wall into a…glowing…door? A door? A door to where?

As Anakin stepped tentatively forward, ready to take a closer look, the toe of his boot caught on a divot in the ground that had been concealed by the prickly yellow grass. He stumbled forward, off-balance, his arms reflexively outstretched towards the vertical face of the stupa directly in front of him. But instead of his palms smacking hard against crumbling sandstone, as he had every right to expect, he…

…fell…

…straight…

…through.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, no Luke yet. He shows up in the next chapter. Hang tight till then!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin walks between worlds and comes out in a place that is not where he started.

Anakin was back on his feet in an instant.

He was alone, and everything was pitch black. What the—?! He spun about, but he couldn’t see a thing, and there was no sign of Obi-Wan. Automatically, Anakin adjusted and widened his stance. Was he in any immediate danger? The lightsaber clipped to his belt could be taken into hand and drawn at roughly the speed of thought. However, its light would reveal his location and rob him of any element of surprise—

But no. He had no presentiment of imminent threat whatsoever. Well, then. What _had_ happened just now? Had he fallen through a hidden opening in the stupa wall…? But no, no, that couldn’t be it either. This just didn’t _feel_ like the Lothal temple at all. Actually, come to think of it, it felt—

Suddenly, Anakin realized that the darkness which surrounded him wasn’t actually pitch black. The blackness was shot through with tiny pinpricks of light that looked quite a lot like stars. Wait a minute—! They _were_ stars, and he definitely recognized a few of those constellations directly overhead and—

And one of those constellations looked like a lothwolf.

A lothwolf made of stars who was seated on its rear haunches and looking directly at Anakin.

“Umm…hi there?” Anakin tried.

The lothwolf made of stars stood, turned, and started to walk away.

“Hey! Hey, uhh, where’re you going? Do you want me to come with you?”

The lothwolf made of stars kept right on walking. It did not hesitate, and it gave no indication that it had heard Anakin’s query, but for some reason Anakin knew that he indeed ought to be following. He almost felt like he was being commanded, _compelled_ , to follow.

So, follow is what he did. He followed the lothwolf made of stars along improbable, twisting, infinitely branching, luminous paths. He didn’t really understand what the paths were, yet he sensed in their construct the same fundamental, connective, attractive forces which held the constituent building blocks of universe together. It was almost as if he were walking between two atomic particles, along the invisible yet irresistible bond which held them together and made them a molecule. Or maybe it was almost like he was walking between worlds.

Unerringly, the lothwolf made of stars guided Anakin to what, in Anakin’s not-so-expert estimation, could only be called “a gate.” A ten-meter tall, circular gate made of starlight. With the symbol of the Jedi Order at the apex. Ah-ha, so this must be the way back to the temple on Lothal! The gate didn’t seem to be open, though. Hesitantly, Anakin stuck a finger out and tried to push it through. It was met with an odd, elastic resistance that felt—and this was the best analogy he could muster—like ray shielding.

“Umm…so…how does this open?” Anakin asked the lothwolf made of stars, who was once more sitting on its haunches and favoring Anakin with an inscrutable stare. Anakin held its gaze, narrowing his eyes in challenge. Neither being moved. Anakin sighed—what was the point of staring contests anyway? “A little help here, maybe?” he tried in a conciliatory tone. “Do you know how to open this, uhh, gate?”

Then the lothwolf made of stars nodded like it had understood his request and threw back its head and howled its haunting, lonely howl.

Lo and behold, the gate opened. On the other side, Anakin could see a durasteel gray sky and a patch of tough, windswept grass beneath it. The grass was green, not yellow. That wasn’t Lothal.

“Wait, where—?!” Anakin began.

The lothwolf made of stars lifted one sparkly paw and pushed Anakin through the gate.

“Oof!” Anakin landed hard on his hands and knees. _Again._ This was becoming a pattern, and Anakin was not amused. “How very rude!” he mumbled as he clambered once again to his feet, imitating Obi-Wan’s proper Core pronunciation (it was perfect for overwrought, feigned outrage) and brushing bits of sandy soil and broken blades of grass from his robes as he took in his new surroundings.

The gate had disappeared. The only item of visual interest directly behind where he’d fallen was an ocean. A vast one, continuing uninterrupted to the horizon line. Anakin could smell the salty spray as waves crashed hard onto the jagged, rocky shoreline. Granite, not sandstone. Nope, _definitely_ not Lothal. Okay. So, _where_ in the great wide galaxy—?

A burbling burst of chatter in a language Anakin did not recognize interrupted the question that had been forming in his mind, and three diminutive beings wearing identical modest dresses and wimples appeared. The sight of him seemed to increase their excitement, and they conversed rapidly among themselves for nearly a minute while Anakin’s impatience grew. He wanted to ask questions, and just as he was opening his mouth, about to try Basic on them, and perhaps Huttese after that, all three beings went quiet and bowed to Anakin, formally and in perfect unison.

Well, well, well. And now the trio of beings was making solicitous motions—they clearly wanted him to follow them. This, too, was becoming a pattern. But since Anakin could see no real alternative, he obeyed and let them be his guides.

They took him inland and uphill, to a primitive looking set of structures which, although well-maintained, did not appear to be inhabited…except…

Except for the aging, scruffy-looking male human whose was seated in meditation on a convenient ledge.

Whose eyes opened as soon as Anakin arrived. Those eyes took in Anakin’s Jedi robes, his Padawan braid, and settled long and hard and remorseless on his face.

“You can’t be serious,” the man declared. His tone of voice and expression were disgusted, but the language was Basic, and the accent was vaguely Outer Rim but otherwise unremarkable. The man promptly closed his eyes again.

Anakin blinked, stared. Well! He didn’t know what to make of that! At least this man spoke a language he understood. “Umm…yes? I am?” Anakin tried. The man ignored him. “So, uhh, I just got here, but I don’t know where ‘here’ is, and these folks”—he gestured toward the trio of diminutive beings, who continued to hover nearby—“seem friendly, but I can’t talk to them. I could really use some explicit guidance…Master?” Of course Anakin couldn’t be certain, but this man sure did strike him as a Jedi Master-type, and Obi-Wan would say that one can never go wrong being respectful.

The presumed-Master snorted. “They’re Lanai, this is Ahch-To, and _you_ can go away and leave me in peace, thank you!”

The diminutive beings—Lanai, if what the presumed-Master had said was accurate—were making more solicitous gestures in the direction of one of the little stone huts. Well, _they_ seemed to think he’d be staying awhile. But the hut didn’t look especially commodious or comfortable—ugh! Right then and there, Anakin decided that he would be delighted, yes, _delighted_ , to get the fuck off this primitive rock and fuck off back to Coruscanti civilization and Padmé—just as soon as he could figure out _how_! He hadn’t noticed any ships or spaceports or any other weird circular gates made of light…

“Look, Master—” Anakin began.

“Don’t call me that!” the man who evidently didn’t want to be called “Master” snapped. His eyes were wide open again and pinned on Anakin. Vaguely, Anakin noticed that they were blue.

“Fine!” Anakin’s temper was beginning to fray. “Would you prefer ‘Hey-You’? Or does ‘Hey-You’ have a name he’d like to share?”

Hey-You glared. Anakin returned the glare.

“Luke,” the man who evidently didn’t want to be called “Hey-You” either grunted, so quiet that Anakin almost missed it. Then Luke got up and disappeared into one of the stone huts.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it wasn’t the most auspicious of first meetings, but things can only get better from here on…right? X-D


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting situated on Ahch-To.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this counts as a slow burn? Maybe? I’m not an expert in that particular genre, alas, so somebody’ll have to tell me at some point whether this story merits a “Slow Burn” tag… X-D

Anakin was nonplussed. He hadn’t expected Luke to just walk away and leave him hanging like that.

None of the huts, including Luke’s, had doors, though, so with a theatrical shrug and rolling of his eyes, Anakin sauntered forward in not especially fast pursuit. “Aren’t you going to ask me to give you my name now, Luke?” he called out. “My Master always says that there are as many different notions of polite behavior as there are stars in the galaxy, you know, but it’s generally understood when speaking Basic that introductions come at the _beginning_ of a conversation, not the _end_. It’s right there in the word, in-tro-duct—”

Anakin came to an abrupt halt at the narrow entrance to Luke’s little stone hut and completely forgot what he’d been about to say next. Luke had his back turned, and he was in the process of undressing—the last of his undergarments dropped casually to the ground. Anakin gulped, his mouth gone suddenly dry. He’d caught the briefest glimpse of…of…well. Although the Jedi did not believe nudity to be shameful, they did preach modesty in all things, and Anakin had never even seen Obi-Wan fully disrobed.

Luke was surely cognizant of his presence, but he gave no sign of caring, so Anakin continued to look. Luke’s body was undeniably… _intriguing_. Short. Thick-limbed. Reassuringly solid, in spite of his advancing age and rounded belly. Hairy, all of it as unkempt and graying as his beard. Anakin watched the muscles of Luke’s buttocks flex and tense, semi-hypnotized, as he bent over to collect, fold, and put away his robes. And the right hand was a prosthetic, he realized belatedly, one with advanced tech. _Very_ advanced tech. Hmm. Anakin hadn’t known it was possible to build servomotors that small and finely articulated. Given the limitations of the conductivity of…hmm…and the tensile strength of…hmm…how _would_ one go about…?

Anakin was so focused on the engineering puzzle posed by Luke’s prosthetic that he hardly noticed that Luke had finished dressing and was now wearing what appeared to be a water-resistant poncho, tunic, and trousers.

“You coming?” Luke asked shortly as he elbowed Anakin aside and out of the entrance to the hut where he’d be loitering.

“Umm, coming…where?”

“Chores,” Luke grunted as he shouldered a primitive rucksack and strapped it to his back.

Ugh, _chores_. Anakin groaned inwardly. Chores didn’t sound fun at all. But it’s not like he had anything better to do here! And besides, he still didn’t know what “here” was, exactly, or where it was, or how to leave it. Maybe if he tagged along with Luke, he’d glean some answers along the way.

Luke walked mighty fast for an old geezer. In the time it had taken for Anakin to decide to join him—thirty seconds, by Anakin’s best guestimation—he was already a tiny figure disappearing behind a distant ridge.

***

In the time it took to milk semi-aquatic thala-siren cows, gather two-dozen porg eggs from their nesting sites in the rocky hillside underbrush, and spear one big fish—three standard hours, by Anakin’s best guestimation—Anakin had managed to gather three further useful pieces of information vis-à-vis his current predicament:

ONE) The planet of Ahch-To was the site of an ancient Jedi temple. It might even have been the _very first_ Jedi temple. Anakin wished briefly that he’d paid more attention to Obi-Wan’s lectures—then maybe he’d know for sure. Either way, he had yet to actually _see_ it himself—it was, apparently, situated within a natural cavern—and he wasn’t the type to want to sightsee for the sake of sightseeing anyway. The female Lanai he’d met earlier were the temple’s self-appointed Caretakers, and they looked after the temple, its surrounding grounds, and the wellbeing of its residents. Luke and Anakin himself were the only two residents at present.

TWO) Luke was a Jedi Master—and almost certainly an extraordinarily powerful one. However, he appeared to be in some manner of strict, self-imposed meditative isolation. Anakin suspected he was doing penance for some manner of transgression. It wasn’t common, but it wasn’t unheard of either. Vaguely, Anakin wondered what horrible thing Luke might’ve done in the past, but Obi-Wan’s constant admonitions about politeness were ringing in Anakin’s ears, so he didn’t attempt to inquire. Whatever it was, Luke was taking his penance seriously: He’d cut himself off from the rest of the galaxy, and he’d even cut himself off from the Force itself. There was only an aching sensation of absence where Luke should have been. It felt…lonely.

THREE) And speaking of isolation and loneliness, they were on an island surrounded on all sides by a frigid ocean that was home to plenty of extra-large, toothy aquatic predators, and there was no mode of transport off of it. The weird circular gate that had brought Anakin here was still stubbornly absent. So, it looked like Anakin would be staying for a while.

The evening meal consisted of fish fillets and eggs grilled over an open fire pit. Anakin and Luke dined together in awkward silence. Luke was still sitting motionless and brooding before the dying embers when Anakin finally decided to retire to his new stone hut abode for the night. Anakin did glance back over his shoulder once, though, and by the flickering play of light and shadow over Luke’s haggard facial features, he realized that Luke was grieving.

Grieving over what? Who knew? But no wonder Luke still hadn’t bothered to inquire about Anakin’s name. He was too wrapped up in his own misery to care about anything—or anyone—else.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin is bored. (Uh-oh.)

“So? What happened to you?”

Luke ignored him and clambered further downward along the jagged shoreline.

“You’re in meditative isolation. You’ve cut yourself off from the Force. You act generally miserable almost all of the time,” Anakin continued, relentless. Two could play at the bantha-headed stubborn game. “So? _So??_ What horrible, unspeakable thing did you do to deserve, ugh, all…well, all this?”

No response again. That figured. Anakin had lost count of how many times his questions had been answered with silence. He kicked a tide-worn pebble into an ocean wave with the toe of his boot—it skipped five times on the surface before sinking, not bad!—and glared blaster bolts into the back of Luke’s messy, graying head.

It was only Anakin’s second full day on Atch-To and his third day following Luke around like an impatient shadow while Luke did his “chores,” chores which Anakin had become dead certain were really just busy work for a being who thought he had all the time in the world to waste…and he was already going absolutely stir-crazy. Mad. Bonkers. Insane.

Ah yes, and here they were yet again, milking the thala-siren cows that were sunning themselves on the rocks while their calves cavorted in shallow tidal pool crèches, protected from predators, and—

“Oof! Hey—!” Anakin spluttered, blinking water out of his lashes in indignation. One of the thala-sirens had used its long neck to sweep him headfirst into the tidal pool, and now he was soaked through, head to toe, to the skin. “Dammit, it’s _cold!_ ” he groused as he climbed back out of the pool, wringing the excess seawater from his robes as he went—

He avoided being swept back into the pool a second time by mere millimeters. First lothwolves made of stars, and now thala-sirens thought they could push him around with impunity?!

“Okay, what the actual fuck are—” Anakin began, fuming, as he retreated to a safe distance.

“She mistook you for my calf and assumed you belonged with the crèche,” Luke interrupted between messy swigs of fresh green milk from his bottle. This was the first thing he’d said all morning, and the outer edges of his eyes were crinkling, like he was amused.

Except it wasn’t funny.

“She what now?” Anakin bit out the question.

Luke shrugged and began to amble away. He seemed to be heading toward the grassy slope where the porgs liked to nest. Planning to gather more eggs for evening meal, presumably. “She thinks I’m your father!” he called out. “Hilarious!”

Anakin glared at the thala-siren cow that had sent him sprawling. She gazed placidly—and inscrutably—back at him. Animal empathy had never been one of his strong suits, so he couldn’t get a read on this semi-wild, semi-domesticated creature himself. He’d have to take Luke at his word.

Nope, it definitely wasn’t funny. Not at all.

***

Heading back to his little stone hut to light a fire and dry himself off counted as an exciting break of routine. It seemed to count as an exciting break of routine for the Caretakers as well; when they saw Anakin, bedraggled and dripping, they burbled and bustled and hustled about until they’d located and delivered Anakin a change of clothing.

A change of clothing which looked a lot like Luke’s Jedi robes. Hells, they probably _were_ Luke’s Jedi robes! The fit wasn’t perfect, but with some judicious folding and cinching, it was passable, and these robes at least had the advantage of not being wet.

By this point, it was already past midday, and Anakin decided that there was precisely zero point whatsoever in trying to catch up with Luke again. Instead, he decided to explore on his own. Ancient, or maybe _the first_ , Jedi temple? Might as well take a screencap from Obi-Wan’s datapad and sightsee. (He could tell Obi-Wan all about it later, and Obi-Wan would be impressed. Maybe even jealous! That last thought made Anakin smirk.)

So, Anakin let the Force guide his steps, and sure enough, he found an ancient Jedi temple built into a natural cave inside the tallest peak on the island. It was unusually strong in the light side of the Force. Anakin remained for a while, pretending to be impressed…and then he got bored and left. He also found a leafless uneti tree in a sheltered grove, older and larger than the uneti tree in the courtyard garden in the temple on Coruscant, and a small shelf of equally ancient looking texts inside its hollowed out trunk. Anakin leafed through the books for a while, pretending to be scholarly…and then he got bored and left.

Eventually, his wanderings brought him back to the spot of his mysterious arrival. There was no weird, circular gate anywhere in sight, but Anakin hadn’t really expected there to be. He sat down heavily on the ground, knees tucked tight under his chin, and concentrated. His concentration did not waver even when a Caretaker arrived with pruning shears and began to clip the grass around him.

Nothing. Just…nothing. There did not seem to be anything special about this particular spot, not to Anakin’s eyes, or his ears, and not to his Force-senses, either. Good Gods, this was sooooo frustrating! How was he ever going to get off this stupid island and back to civilization—and Padmé?! Anakin rubbed his hands over his face and grumbled, “I don’t suppose you operate on a fixed schedule, Weird Circular Gate?”

The Caretaker paused in her pruning duties and uttered a long stream of syllables that might as well have been gibberish to Anakin, nodding sagely all the while.

“Say what now?” Anakin snapped. Language barriers, damn language barriers—!

“She says the door will open when it’s time for you to leave.”

 

TO BE CONTINUED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was this chapter slow? I’m a bit concerned that it may be…but I have a chapter-by-chapter outline already for this story, and I think for pacing reasons this should be here. Thoughts? I’m always open to the idea of revisions. ;-) In any case, the plot should pick back up in the next chapter, so stay tuned!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin convinces Luke to join him for a night of festivities and dancing at the Lanai village.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI: I was in the mood for a name/icon change, in case you were wondering, and thought this’d be a good choice for an account on a site with “archive” in its name. However, it occurs to me now that it also sounds a bit like a disease. Ha! So maybe I’ll change it again soon. We’ll see.

“ ‘When it’s time for me to leave’…?” Anakin echoed incredulously. “And what time would that be, do you suppose?”

Luke shrugged. “Sorry, I—”

The Caretaker, whose pruning shears had disappeared mysteriously into her robes at some point, interrupted Luke with pursed fish-lips, a series of wet burbles, and some excited arm-waving. Hmm, maybe she had some further insight into Anakin’s predicament? Luke listened attentively, nodding once and then shaking his head regretfully. The Caretaker, for her part, threw up her hands in seeming exasperation before trundling away and back down the hill, in the general direction of the shoreline.

“What did she say?” Anakin asked, hope audible in his voice.

Luke shrugged again. “The Lanai men are expected to return tonight from their deep sea fishing expedition. There’ll be a welcome home party in the Caretaker village. Feasting and orgies and all that good stuff. You know. We’re invited, of course, but I gave them our apologies.”

“Waitaminute. There’s a party tonight, and we’re not going?!” Anakin’s questions about the Weird Circular Gate were temporarily set aside at the prospect of actual diverting activity. Activity which Luke had—wrongly—assumed wouldn’t interest him. Really, Anakin couldn’t believe this guy! The same boring routine every day…was he allergic to fun? Even Obi-Wan wasn’t _that_ bad (although Obi-Wan’s idea of fun did, Anakin had to admit, leave something to be desired).

“We’re unrefusing our refusal. C’mon! We’re going!” Anakin announced as he leapt to his feet.

“ ‘We’re going,’ are we…?” Now it was Luke’s turn to incredulously repeat the words he’d just heard.

“Yep!” Anakin grabbed Luke’s hand—the prosthetic one—and began dragging him along in the direction he’d just seen the Caretaker go.

Luke, surprisingly, allowed himself to be dragged without protest.

Anakin, for his part, had no idea where they were going. But this _was_ just an island, after all—there were only so many places a Caretaker village could be hiding! What was Jedi intuition _for_ if not situations like this one?

***

Sure enough, the village, built next to a sheltered inlet and further fortified against the elements by a primitive wall made of vertical posts and woven-grass, _had_ been easy to find, and the party was already in full swing when Anakin and Luke arrived.

As Luke had indicated, there was indeed feasting, tables groaning with loads of fresh seafood and fizzy fermented beverage. There was also cheery, primitive music, along with singing and dance to accompany it. No orgies, though, at least, not out in the open…which to Anakin’s mind was almost disappointing.

Not that Anakin wanted to participate in any orgies with any Lanai…female _or_ male. He wasn’t sexually compatible with their species, no way, not even remotely. The only member of his own species on Atch-To was Luke himself, and Luke was…well, Luke was…

Anakin sighed.

Luke was a perfect holo-portrait picture of doom and gloom.

“Are you sure you don’t want a drink?” Anakin asked. He’d already quaffed a few mugs of the mystery drink himself—it was tasty!—and was feeling a pleasant alcoholic buzz. “C’mon, it’ll help you unwind.”

“No, thank you.”

“Okay. Wanna dance?” Anakin tried instead. The music was catchy, and Lanai looked like they were having fun as they whirled each other up and down the moonlit beach.

“No, thank you,” Luke repeated. He was staring off blankly into the middle distance. He seemed…distracted. Was he really even listening to Anakin’s suggestions? Gods, if there was one thing Anakin hated, it was being ignored!

“C’mon, Luke. It’ll be fun,” Anakin wheedled, “and it’ll take your thoughts off the dead for awhile. You’re allowed to brood less, you know. They’re already dead; they won’t mind.”

 _That_ certainly got Luke’s attention. “How did you kno—?!”

“Intuition.” Now it was Anakin’s turn to shrug. Sometimes, that was just how things worked. “Intuition that’s also telling me dancing will be good for you. So, c’mon!” For the second time today, Anakin took Luke’s hand and dragged him forward, and again, Luke allowed himself to be dragged along without protest toward the merrily dancing group of Lanai.

They danced. And danced and danced and danced. And danced some more. Anakin watched their hosts and improvised the steps as necessary, using the Force and leading Luke along, faster and faster and faster, until they too were whirling up and down the beach alongside the whooping, cheering Lanai, and there was no energy left over for either of them to think, to brood, but only to _be_.

They danced for hours. They danced all night.

And then…as the wan, watery light of dawn began to lighten the sky overhead from a starry black to a deep, royal blue…

Luke tripped.

Anakin caught him, but their momentum was such that he could not stop the fall altogether; at best, he could only angle himself underneath Luke’s body and cushion him from the worst. Which was what he did. It was just pure, protective instinct on Anakin’s part.

“Oof!” Anakin gasped as he landed hard on his back, the wind knocked out of his lungs. Luke was sprawled out heavily on top of him. These awkward tumbles Anakin had been taking lately really _were_ becoming a pattern—!

Luke groaned and tried to sit up. His face was flushed from exertion, his skin was shiny with perspiration, his eyes were bright and alive, and the realization hit Anakin like a blaster bolt to the gut: Luke…he was…he was…

 _He was beautiful_.

Anakin had meant to ask Luke if he was okay, but rather different words spilled out of his mouth instead. “So, uhh, I don’t think I’ve had the opportunity to introduce myself yet. My name is Anakin Skywalker. Pleased to meet you?” The last of his words were uttered with a rising intonation—a question.

Luke groaned again and rolled off of Anakin and onto his back. They were now laying side by side, shoulder to shoulder. Both were panting, still, hearts racing. Luke started to laugh, warm and musical and _genuine_ …and Anakin knew that, in this particular moment, no words were necessary. He had all the answers he needed.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bath and a revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I’m bumping the rating up to Mature for the decidedly erotic content of this chapter. Yep, that means what you think it means! It’s starting! :-D

After that night at the Lanai village, nothing changed…and everything did.

Anakin was still stuck on Ahch-To with no viable route off the island, let alone the planet. Luke was still pottering about when he wasn’t in sleep or meditation and calling the activities “chores”: spear-fishing on sheer cliffs, milking thala-sirens, gathering porg eggs, and so forth. He was still mostly silent and taciturn and unwelcoming.

But Anakin was no longer put off by this unwelcoming demeanor. Instead, everything single little thing about Luke had become unaccountably _fascinating_ to Anakin. His unkempt hair, his old, discolored Jedi robes, his body—compact and unassuming when motionless, swift and precise when in motion—Anakin memorized every detail. He delighted in the all too infrequent sound of Luke’s voice, dissected and analyzed the probable meanings of each and every quirk of Luke’s mouth. On those rare occasions that Luke deigned to cast his bright, clear-eyed gaze upon Anakin, Anakin felt the pit of his stomach drop like he was in sudden freefall.

And during the quiet nights before an open fire, supping on grilled fish and boiled eggs, when Luke’s expression became shuttered and sad, Anakin ached. He ached for Luke, for Luke’s smile, his laugh. He wanted to be the one to make Luke smile and laugh. He wanted to purge him of that mysterious pain once and for all. He wanted to dance with Luke again beneath the moonlight, he wanted to feel the weight of Luke’s body again against his own…or _on top of his own_ , and…and…he wanted…he wanted… _he wanted_ …

Truth be told, Anakin wasn’t sure precisely what he wanted. Well, besides Luke himself.

Oh, and he wanted a bath. He’d been here for over a month already, and between the salt of the ocean and the dirt and grime of the island, he felt _disgusting_.

Luke, as it turned out, had a solution for the latter hidden in a chamber high up in the mountain, adjacent to the Jedi temple.

“Water was too precious for bathing where I grew up,” Luke was saying as he fished a small flamelighter from his belt pouch. “You know how it is.”

Anakin blinked, surprised. Even though he had become marginally more accepting of Anakin’s presence of late, this talkativeness of Luke’s was uncharacteristic. And yes, Anakin did know exactly how it was, but he couldn’t understand why Luke had assumed he would. Did he _look_ like he’d been born and raised in a desert? He hadn’t mentioned Tatooine to Luke, had he?

Luke didn’t seem to notice Anakin’s reaction. “In any case,” he continued, “I’m not really supposed to get this prosthetic wet, so I tend to forget this is here. But it _is_ here, and you’re welcome to make use of it whenever you wish.”

The “it” in question was bathing facilities. Bathing! Facilities! Okay, okay, they were primitive, and where once there had been a natural hot spring, this part of the planet had ceased to be seismologically active, so now there was cold rainwater collecting in deep pools and a furnace which had to be lit and stoked by hand. But Anakin was more than willing to put in the work that was required if it meant immersion in a steaming hot bath up to his chin.

He didn’t even need to do that; Luke did it all for him.

By the time the bath was ready, the temperature of the water appeared to be only just short of intolerably hot. Aaaahhh, yes, this could be heaven. Anakin eased himself into the bathing pool, and he could feel his muscles going loose and rubbery as they soaked in the warmth. Actually, no doubt about it: This _was_ heaven. “Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to join me?” Anakin asked.

“Weeell…” Luke hedged. He added more fuel to the furnace and pumped the bellows a few more times.

“You can keep your hand out of the water. Stay on the edge of the pool. I’ll help wash you.”

“Oh, all right,” Luke said and began to undress.

While Luke was folding and setting his clothing aside, Anakin lifted himself up and out of the pool to fetch a nearby basin and sponge. There wasn’t any soap, but there was a bottle of unscented oil that the Lanai used to moisturize their skin, and that would be more than sufficient. Luke was just getting into the bath himself, movements tentative, his prosthetic hand raised high over his head, when Anakin returned.

“Sit here,” Anakin instructed, gesturing to a bare outcropping of rock near the edge of the pool.

Luke obeyed. At first, he seemed tense, flinching and jumping wherever Anakin brushed him with the wet sponge. Eventually, though, he seemed to relax and lose himself in the sensuousness of being bathed, practically purring with pleasure as Anakin scrubbed up and down his back and around to his chest, thumb teasing one nipple as if by accident. Luke didn’t breathe a peep of protest even while Anakin worked some of the worst tangles and island debris out of his hair.

These intimate ministrations were starting to have an effect on Anakin; he adored touching Luke’s body like this and breathing the clean, musky scent which rose naturally off of his flushed, damp skin. He felt closer to Luke than he ever had been before, and for the first time—the very first time!—he could almost imagine that he could feel Luke in the Force—like the tiniest pinprick of bright light in a sea of darkness, drawing one’s gaze inexorably toward it. By the time he was finished, he had become sexually aroused.

Surely Luke knew his feelings! And yet, he did not pull away. Instead, he rested lightly in Anakin’s arms, all loosened muscles and an aura of peace. Greatly daring, Anakin tightened his arms around Luke, drawing him in closer so that they were flush against each other, Luke’s back to Anakin’s front, wet flesh against wet flesh. Luke did not pull away. He nuzzled behind Luke’s ear and let his lips touch the sensitive skin there tenderly, so tenderly. Almost a kiss.

Still, Luke did not pull away. Anakin was positively tingling with excitement. He scooched his hips forward, allowing the length of his erection and its exposed purple tip to brush against the curve of Luke’s backside—

Luke lurched out of the bath so quickly that Anakin had only just managed to slide back into the deepest, most shadowed part of the pool before Luke turned to regard him, steaming bathwater streaming down his naked body and puddling at his bare feet, his expression singularly forbidding and fierce. _Angry_.

Anakin recoiled, flinching reflexively. Oh no! Was he going to lash out…?!

The storm clouds on Luke’s brow cleared in the face of Anakin’s fear, and instead of the expected reprimand, he said only, curtly, “There are chores needing doing. I should get back.”

Anakin hunched down and drew his knees up close to his chest, hiding his erection, trying to make himself look small and humble and insignificant. “Oh. Chores. Riiiight,” he mumbled. “Do you need me to assist you?”

“No.” Luke’s reply in the negative was even more curt, if possible.

“Oh. I see. Well, uhh, I think I’d like to stay here a while longer, if that’s okay…?”

Luke simply nodded, once.

Anakin was getting the picture. He tilted his head back against the surface of the water and closed his eyes. Let Luke think he wanted to relax and take a nap. They could both pretend.

Eventually, and without additional comment, Luke dried himself off, got dressed, and left, and Anakin, with a soul-deep moan of relief, reached down into the water for his aching erection.

It took less than thirty seconds to finish himself off. The orgasm hit like a sucker-punch to the gut, closer to pain than to pleasure, and so sudden and violent in its intensity that he doubled over, belly heaving. Luke had been angry, but. But. He’d seen. He’d seen! Distantly, Anakin could hear himself wailing, long and low, the sound echoing off the cavern walls, as pulse after pulse after heady pulse of semen poured out of him.

_He’d seen. Luke had been aroused too. Luke wanted him too._

Gods, he’d been so beautiful, naked before Anakin, in all his natural glory! Yes, yes, _yes_. Surely Luke was already half-persuaded. Anakin tightened his grasp on his erection and stroked with even more desperate determination—he wanted, no, he _needed_ , to come again.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin and Luke have an argument. It doesn’t go well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time, no type!
> 
> Regarding this update (December 5, 2018): Chapter 6, the chapter immediately previous to this one, has been extensively rewritten. I wasn’t happy with the original version; I think it’s much better now. If you read it any earlier than, like, yesterday, please go back and take another look. Significant plot points have been added and changed, and the last portion of Chapter 6 has been transferred to Chapter 7. I’ve also revised the rating up to Mature on the basis of these changes. You’ll see why!

Huh.

That had been thoroughly… _exhausting_.

However, it had also been promising. Very, very promising, actually. Now Anakin knew that Luke had felt it too, the energy, the connection, the…the… _thing_ growing between them that was drawing them inexorably closer and closer together…like this was their _destiny_ …

Anakin remained in the bath even after the worst of his body’s need had subsided, boneless and replete, too tired to move, allowing his thoughts to drift into the swirling currents of the Force.

The roots of the mountain went deep, he could sense, vast chambers far beneath the earth’s surface where a sea of magma once flowed, gone dark and cold millennia ago. This bathing facility was connected to those deep places where sunlight would never touch, where hidden truths were kept, and if he so wished he could follow that path down, down, down—

“—be returned. You must not keep him here forever, Luke.”

Huh…? Did he drift off to sleep? He would _swear_ … Was there a new arrival to Ahch-To? He was speaking Core-accented Basic. Hey, wait, did Anakin know that voice? Or didn’t he?

“Why _not_ keep him here forever? Maybe the galaxy would be a better place if I did!”

 _That_ was Luke. He sounded like he was nearby—and he sounded exceedingly angry. Far angrier, in fact, than he’d looked when Anakin had last seen him. This was disturbing. Anakin finally roused himself fully and clambered out of the pool. Brr! The temperature differential made him shiver a little. He shook himself dry as efficiently as possible, threw on his robes, and hurried in the direction of the voices and that vaguest of vague impressions, which continued to linger, of Luke’s unique pinprick of light in the Force.

“That is not your decision to make.”

“Fine, then why not let Anakin choose for himself? What if he _wants_ to stay? His feelings are strong. I’ve…I’ve…felt them firsthand.”

A pregnant pause.

“His emotions always were volatile. They made him powerful, but they also made him exceedingly dangerous. This cannot be his decision, either. I’m sorry.”

“Oh? I suppose it’s yours, then?! Is that it?! Is that what you’re telling me?! You, who trained him so very well?! I do not sense real darkness in him yet, Ben. There is passion, true, but his passion is just a confused, instinctive response to our—”

“You are allowing your own passion to cloud your judgment.”

“I’m not!” Luke took a deep breath to steady himself before continuing. “I’m not,” he repeated, trying to strike a reasonable tone, “and I’m not afraid of the consequences. I’m never going to escape the past, not really, yes, I realize that, but Ben, if _the galaxy_ could be spared—”

“You are rationalizing. It is not your place to meddle with that which you do not fully understand. This is sheer, self-serving hubris, Luke. After all these years, have you learned nothing? You must send him home.”

“No! I—no, not yet!” As he uttered that vehement refusal, Luke rose from where he had been sitting, spun about on his heel…

…and came face-to-face with the just-arrived Anakin Skywalker.

Luke froze, his eyes wide and blank.

“Umm…Luke? Hi. Who were you talking to just now?” Anakin asked.

How weird! There didn’t appear to be anyone else here besides Luke, and apart from the entrance by which Anakin had just arrived, there were only the solid walls and vaulted ceilings of a modestly-sized natural cavern which appeared to have been repurposed for quiet contemplation. The only artificially produced design feature, as best Anakin could tell, was low platform, sized roughly for one human and formed from where the bedrock itself had been carved away. The surface of the stone had been polished smooth by the bodies of countless Jedi who had long ago made use of it for seated meditation.

“I-I… No one.” Luke looked away. He was staring into the middle distance, uncomfortable; he was obviously hiding something.

“I definitely heard someone,” Anakin said. His Force-perception sensed nothing, but he wasn’t going to let this go. There had definitely been a voice before, and it had been calm and erudite, the accent more reminiscent of Obi-Wan than Luke. It was probably another Jedi—another Jedi with whom Luke had been talking about sending Anakin home.

“You must be imagining things. The only living sentients in the mountain are the two of us.”

Fine, if that was how Luke was going to deal out this sabacc hand? Anakin would try a different tack instead. “So, tell me how I get off Ahch-To.”

“I don’t kno—”

“Argh! Bantha poodoo!” Anakin shouted, anger rising, his speech reverting to the obscene Huttese pidgin of his childhood as a slave on Tatooine. “You do know! You do! But you’ve decided not to tell me!” Luke was opening his mouth to protest, but Anakin made a sharp negating motion. “No, no, don’t lie! I know you do! _So tell me!!_ ”

“No.” Luke shook his head. His words were grim, stubborn, obstinate as dewback not yet saddle-broken. They had this in common, it seemed. In different circumstances, Anakin might have been impressed. “Please calm yourself—”

But these were not different circumstances. Anakin roared wordlessly and charged Luke, fury exploding out of him like a star gone nova. He grasped Luke’s shoulders and shook him hard. He wanted to knock some sense into him! “You will tell me, and you will tell me _right now_ , Luke, or I swear, by all the Gods of Suns and Sand and Sky...!”

Luke’s arms flailed weakly at his sides, but he did not reply.

“Answer!”

Luke’s complexion had paled. His eyes were bulging out of their sockets, and his mouth was gaping open.

“Answer me, godsdammit!”

_Luke’s lips were turning blue._

No. _No_.

Overcome with horror, Anakin released the Force-hold. Luke crumpled to the ground abruptly, like a marionette with it strings cut, clutching at his throat and gasping for air with harsh, rattling intakes of breath. Anakin had been so, so angry; he hadn’t even realized he’d been hurting Luke, no, _killing him_ …and Luke hadn’t even tried to protect himself.

Luke looked so completely helpless there on the floor of the cavern, an old man in crumpled, roughspun robes, defenseless, coughing uncontrollably. The tiny bit of bright Force-presence was gone; Luke had completely cut himself off again and become a Force-blind nobody.

Anakin was covered in shame. This was bad. _Bad_. In his anger, he had nearly brought Luke to grievous harm. “I’m sorry,” he whispered…

…and fled.

***

Both sea and sky were durasteel gray and roiling fitfully. A storm was coming ashore.

Anakin paced fitfully along the rocky shoreline near the Lanai village, ignoring crash of breaking waves and the seafoam which overtopped the leather of his boots and spattered his thighs with salt.

At low tide, he and Luke had danced here in the moonlight. It was high tide now, though, and there was no dancing. The dancing already felt like a lifetime ago.

What the hells was he doing?! Anakin asked himself again and again and again. Why was he wasting his time here?! Padmé. Yes, Padmé needed him; he could feel the presentiment so strongly. How could he have forgotten?! What was going on?! Why wasn’t Luke helping him?! Why had Luke been trying to deceive him?! And, he’d never stopped to wonder previously because it hadn’t seemed like it mattered, but now… Who _was_ Luke really, anyway?!

Suddenly, Anakin remembered that dark, secret place beneath the roots of the mountain he’d sensed while bathing. It was…it was a reservoir, yes, _a well of power_ , and it would’ve spoken to him then, if he’d let it.

Hmm. Maybe it still would. Maybe this well in the darkness held the answers he sought.

Anakin decided that he was going to find out.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin falls down deep into a well of the dark side of the Force.

It was _cold_ beneath the mountain. That was the first thing Anakin noticed.

But this cold wasn’t just from the icy waters of the ocean, through which he’d had to swim against the tide to reach this place. And it wasn’t the dank chill of jagged rock that has never felt the warmth of the sun either, though he now clambered onto an outcropping of it on his hands and knees. No, this was a place of awesome dark energies, as ancient and unyielding as the eternal, everlasting light of the Jedi temple looming over a thousand meters above his head.

Darkness was always cold, Anakin knew—cold as the vacuum of space, as the absence of every living thing and its potential. In darkness, the philosophers said, the galaxy would someday end.

But there was also power to be had here, and there was knowledge to be had as well…answers to questions the light pretended were not even questions worth asking in the first place. Answers, knowledge, _power_ , they were all there for the taking—provided one had sufficient will to seize it.

Anakin believed that he had sufficient will. The Force was strong in him; it would guide him.

He reached out with his senses, observing, testing, examining. The chamber had originally formed eons ago as a bubble of toxic gases in a vast, underground sea of liquid magma. When that magma had hardened into rock, the shape of the bubble had been preserved, and it had remained hermetically sealed until the relentless, erosive pounding of the surf had broken through.

Where there was great light, there was great darkness to balance it. The construction of the Jedi temple above had driven so much of the planet’s natural darkness down, down, down, and so it had gathered here, a swirling pool, concentrated, _contained_. This was a sinkhole. _A well_.

Anakin remembered the wells of Mos Espa from his youth on Tatooine. Beneath the shifting desert sands, drilled into the hard, cold bedrock of the planet itself, a hundred meters or more straight down, water could be stored indefinitely. As a boy, he’d occasionally peered down into the openings of these well shafts, trying to guestimate their depth, trying to see their bottom. Sometimes, they were nearly empty, and he would imagine—with both a youngling’s trepidation and taste for thrill in equal measure—that if he fell in he’d fall forever. But those times when they were full of fresh water, ah, then! He could see the wan, rippling reflection of his own face upon the surface of the water.

This well too was full. He could see his own face. And the reflection of his reflection. And the reflection of his reflection of his reflection. Anakin Skywalker, him but _not_ him, in all of his infinite, wondrous variety.

 _The truest knowledge is to be found within oneself_ , the well’s power seemed to be saying to him. _Fall, fall,_ fall _, into yourself_ , it seemed to be commanding him. _Therein lie the answers you seek._

Anakin obeyed…

_Further in. Yes. Surrender._

…and it is hot, so hot. Not cold. No, not anymore. There is only heat, heat, heat everywhere. Did he even remember what it was to be cold?

Heat of the desert, heat of rage. Hot blood of dismembered bodies steaming in the dry, night air. Death and destruction and pitiable cries of women and children as they are cut remorselessly down. So what if they’re innocents? Their innocence will not save them because it did not save _her_ …! Hot tears spill from his eyes, blinding him with his abject _fury_ —

Heat of the lava field, heat of rage. Come back to me, she says. You’ve changed, she says. I did it for you, he insists, but she has refused his gift, the terrible sacrifices he had made for her, and the pain of the rejection slides between his ribs and into his fast-beating heart like a plasma knife through fresh-churned bantha butter. Heartbreak is pushed aside, and tight, righteous anger replaces it, swells, _explodes_ —

Heat of the black sands on the shores of inferno, heat of rage. He is crippled and maimed, his flesh is burning, burnt, charred beyond recognition. His former Master, his brother, his best friend, has betrayed him, and he would weep for it, but his tear ducts are seared shut, so he cannot. He burns within the tattered remnants of his spirit as well, and those soul-born flames rise and flare hotter, fueled by his fury. But this anger proves transient, its fuel quickly spent, and then he is just another abject victim of war, helpless, covered in fourth degree burns, and oh gods, oh gods, he is _freezing cold_. If a burn victim survives the trauma of initial burning, one of the gravest threats to their survival—yes, believe it or not, it’s true!—is actually _hypothermia_ —

Cold. So cold. He is shivering uncontrollably, like he will never, never, never be warm again. He can’t feel his extremities; there is pain everywhere else. He is weak, dying. The vacuum of space is always cold, cold, so cold, Anakin has known this since he was a little boy, and here, here, _here_ in this well of endless dark, not even the light of the stars, an entire universe of bright, life-giving suns, can penetrate—

“Help…me…”

Cold. So cold. He is beyond anger now, beyond hope, beyond salvation. This is enslavement. Again. A fate worse than death. So why can’t he just die?! But no. He is trapped, caged, _encased_ in blackness, imprisoned within his own traitorous body, falling into himself forever and ever and ever, with no one, no one, no one at all to catch him, and why, why, _why?_ What did he do to deserve this?! There is no light, no light, _no light_ —

No, there _is_ light after all. A flash, starburst bright. Only the barest, briefest of moments, but it only takes a single moment to _see_ —

“Anakin?! No! You stupid, _stupid_ — Oh, what have you done…?!”

Luke. It’s Luke. Luke, who is his own source of light.

_I’m here, I’m here. Don’t be frightened._

He felt himself wrapped, enfolded, swaddled in warmth. He felt himself being lifted, up, up, up, high into the sky, and this time, when he fell, it was the gentlest, kindest, sweetest of falls, guided to the ground in perfect safety.

Then, at last, at long, long last, a different sort of darkness, comfortable and sheltering.

Then, nothing.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI: That bit about burn victims and hypothermia really is true.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke takes care of Anakin after that life-threatening brush with the dark side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🎉 Happy New Year! 🎉

At first, he thought he was a little boy again, dreaming happy, hopeful dreams of fast flight and freedom. Yes, he was a little boy again, secure in the certainty of the place where he belonged, rocked to sleep in his mother’s embrace, guarded from all the terrors of the night by his mother’s unconditional love. Ah, to love and be loved. Those were the best of times; these were the best of dreams.

The inevitable return to some semblance of consciousness, such as it was, happened only gradually, in slow-motion, like treacle syrup poured from a jar.

Anakin became aware of the fire first. Not a raging inferno of eldritch darkness, this fire, but the low, orange glow of an ordinary hearth fire. He lay in a bedroll closely beside it, and he could feel its radiant warmth even through several layers of covers. Dimly, he realized that he must be lying on the floor of one of the stone huts on Ahch-To.

Yet his back, closest to the cold, curving walls of dry granite, was as warm as his front. A body lay behind him, spooned against him, curled around him, bare skin to bare skin, sharing the heat of his living flesh with Anakin. _Luke_. It was Luke, his breathing low, deep, and even. Ah, dear Luke. He was sound asleep. Anakin’s head was nestled in the crook of Luke’s arm, and as for Luke…

Luke was completely naked. Actually, they were both completely naked…! Anakin jerked and stiffened (in a couple of different places).

“Spent time on Hoth once. Ice planet. This is the best way. Don’t argue.” Luke muttered as he threw an arm around Anakin’s waist and pulled him in tighter. Then, for good measure, he wrapped one leg around Anakin’s hips.

Anakin couldn’t muster the strength to move, never mind argue. Not that he wanted to, oh no. It felt oh so very right to be like this, to lie with Luke this way. He could feel the thick length of Luke’s penis against the base of his spine, quiescent but only the tiniest, tiniest tick above the cleft between his buttocks…

Anakin began to tremble and not from the cold. Sharing a bed was even more wonderful than sharing a bath…!

“Shh, it’s all right. You’re all right. You’re safe. Nothing can hurt you,” Luke said soothingly. His lips brushed behind Anakin’s ear, almost but not quite a kiss. Did he misunderstand what Anakin wanted—what he needed? Maybe, or maybe not, but regardless, he held Anakin against him even more tightly, if it were possible, tightly enough to stop Anakin’s trembling. “There you go. Rest now,” Luke’s tone brooked no argument.

There may well have been a touch of the Force in Luke’s command too, for deep sleep soon reclaimed them both.

***

“Here. Drink this.”

“Mmm…?” Blearily, Anakin levered himself up on one elbow and fumbled for the bowl Luke was holding out.

Luke jerked the bowl away from Anakin’s clumsy fingers. “No, no, careful,” he admonished, “and slowly. I just took it off the fire, and it’s hot, so don’t gulp.”

Anakin acknowledged the warning. “Mmmkay.”

A mollified Luke carefully handed Anakin over a steaming bowl of…uhh…something strong-smelling. Anakin took a tentative sip. It was indeed scalding hot. Anakin drank slowly. It was a mixture of thala-siren milk and fish oil, he realized, flavored with blanched redweed, and it tasted better than it smelled. Gradually, the scratchiness in Anakin’s throat eased.

The chill in the pit of his stomach was still there, though, despite the temperature of the liquid. As he finished the concoction in the bowl, he began to shiver again. He pulled the blankets up higher around his shoulders to try to conceal his discomfort.

But Luke missed nothing. His expression was hard, shuttered, uncompromising. “The cold you’re feeling is not hypothermia. _This_ cold is not so easily treated with simple soup. You’re going to need more rest if you don’t want a life-threatening relapse.”

Hmm, that sounded serious. Meek and obedient, Anakin settled back down into the impromptu cocoon of bedding. He’d sensed the truth of Luke’s words.

Luke sat cross-legged beside him and straightened the covers. Then, he placed the rough, calloused palm of his left hand on Anakin’s forehead. “Rest now.” His voice was gentle.

“Please…Luke,” Anakin whispered through chattering teeth. Luke’s hand might be warm, but he was still so, so cold. “Stay. Please. Please don’t go. Please stay with me while I sleep.”

“I will. I promise. Rest now.”

“Luke?” Anakin was surprised by how hoarse his voice was, how much it hurt to even talk. But there was something he needed to convey.

“Mmm?” Luke hand didn’t move from its place on Anakin’s forehead.

“I’m…I’m sorry for…” _I’m sorry for my anger. I’m sorry for lashing out and hurting you, and for gravely endangering both of our lives_ —no, no! He couldn’t say the words. He was still too ashamed of his actions.

“Yes, I know.”

Luke heard it all anyway. Including the parts Anakin couldn’t bring himself to say aloud.

***

When Anakin awakened again, it was from a profoundly restful, dreamless sleep, and he knew immediately exactly where he was and with whom he shared a bed.

Luke had kept his promise; he had stayed.

The unnatural cold and the soul-crushing darkness, however, had fled, fled utterly, and there was only the ordinary warmth of two bodies beneath the covers and the wan, watery light of morning on Ahch-To streaming through the unblocked entrance of the hut.

Anakin had turned over sometime during the night so that now they lay side by side, legs tangled together, facing each other, breathing the same air. Although his eyes were closed, the durasteel tips of the fingers of Luke’s prosthetic hand traced delicate spirals along the curve of Anakin’s hipbone—by this Anakin knew Luke was already awake—and in spite of the wild, unkempt state of his hair and beard, the curve of his mouth had become soft. Easeful. Kind. Really, it was practically a smile. Luke, looking untroubled and contented like this, made Anakin ache.

Anakin reached out to cup the back of Luke’s head with one of his hands. He craned his neck forward and brushed his lips tenderly, so tenderly, against Luke’s.

This was definitely a kiss.

Luke’s eyes opened.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will kick this work’s rating up to Explicit. So. Yeah. If that’s what you’re here for, please stay tuned—it’s coming soon! (And so are Anakin and Luke. Coming, that is. Well, hopefully. ;-) )


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long-awaited First Time Sex Chapter. ’Nuff said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See: Chapter Summary. Incestuous PWP ahead. The story’s rating has been upped to Explicit.

Kissing Luke was like coming home, like belonging. It just felt so…so… _right_.

He was gentle. He knew he had to be gentle. Very, very gentle. Luke was fragile; he could be anxious, skittish. And rightfully so. Anakin’s excess of emotion had hurt him in the past. Now though, Anakin wanted to draw him in closer, closer, ah yes, _closer_ …

Their lips touched, feather-light, breath mingling, and although Anakin wanted to suckle that shimmersilk flesh, to nip, to bite, to seize, to claim, he restrained himself and licked at the corner of Luke’s mouth instead, tender, infinitely patient, teasing, urging it open. Which he did. Open, that is, and shyly, Anakin explored Luke with his tongue. Oh, he tasted so sweet! And he was yielding, so beautifully, beautifully yielding, permitting Anakin complete control of the kiss.

Anakin moaned and brought their mouths together more tightly. One hand cupped the back of Luke’s neck, holding him steady, and they were kissing now, really kissing, committed and confident. Luke’s beard tickled Anakin’s face; Anakin chuckled happily into the kiss. That hair, untrimmed and naturally grown, was soft against Anakin’s sensitive skin, not prickly, and it delighted him. He realized suddenly that he needed to feel more.

His other hand reached out touch Luke’s chest. He had hair there, too, lots of it, lots more than Anakin, and it too was wonderfully soft. He allowed his fingers to tangle into it, to comb through it, brushing against one nipple which lay beneath as if by accident, relishing the bright burst of arousal he knew they both felt. And he could feel the beat of Luke’s heart against the flat of his palm, steady and strong, a rhythmic counterpoint to their deepening kisses.

He allowed his fingers to wander lower, stroking the sternum and the slight swell of belly. He dipped one fingertip into the divot of the navel—such a small, intimate space!—and Luke seemed to tense, to tremble, to quiver, in response. Anakin wondered if anyone had ever touched him there before. Was he the first? It seemed possible. Yet this was not the body of a young man, and it had its imperfections, its blemishes, its scars, and it all the more dear to Anakin in light of that. He paused to rub Luke’s belly reassuringly in slow, counterclockwise circles and sensed the some of the tension ease, sensed Luke starting to relax again—

That was it; Anakin decided to take the plunge. Luke’s penis, half-erect and resting on the curve Luke’s inner thigh. Anakin grasped the shaft, delighting in the soft perfection of the skin, the fine traceries of veins beneath it, the rosy glans peeking out from behind the wrinkled tip of foreskin and the crystalline tear it wept, stiffening fully when Anakin experimented with rolling the foreskin back and forth.

Luke gasped and arched, breaking their kiss. His eyes were wide as they locked onto Anakin’s, face frozen in tableau, like he was stunned by the intensity of his own reaction to Anakin’s touch and didn’t know quite how to respond. And maybe, Anakin reflected, he didn’t. Maybe, in spite of his age, his own body was an undiscovered country to him, maybe he was ill-attuned to his own desires. Maybe, in this, _he_ , Anakin, would be the master and Luke would be the apprentice. Or maybe they’d be equals, equally inexperienced in the giving and receiving of pleasure—aaahhh, now that’d be nice.

Anakin tugged lightly on the shaft, urging Luke closer, closer, _closer_ , until their bodies were flush against each other, skin to skin, their limbs tangled. Anakin’s hand, still wrapped around Luke’s erection, thick and warm, was trapped between them, pressed against Anakin’s belly. Anakin’s own erection was rubbing sweetly against Luke’s inner leg and his groin. He began to stroke the shaft firmly, matching the rhythm of his hand to the one his hips were already instinctively setting. This was all the friction they would need.

“Ooohhh… Luke… You make me feel so _good_ …” Anakin murmured. The depth of tone and the hoarseness of his own voice surprised him a bit, then, but he didn’t bother waiting for Luke’s reply; he just started kissing him again.

It was, Anakin knew, going to be over very quickly. He’d been waiting too long for this first consummation to draw it out slowly, and the pleasure was already coalescing at the base of his penis, and building, and spiking, _peaking_ —

Anakin broke the kiss and buried his face in Luke’s neck, mouthing and sucking on the clean, sweat-salt flesh there in order to stifle his shout as his orgasm tore through him and he began to spill, each pulse of semen seeming to exit his body with the strength of a blaster bolt. Luke was spilling himself too, less than a half-second later, a flood of warmth over Anakin’s fist. Anakin stroked him right through it, drawing out the ecstasy until Luke was writhing and crying out in wordless, agonized ecstasy.

He’d been the one to make Luke fall apart this way. Him. Anakin. The rush of power accompanying that realization was dizzying, intoxicating, and Anakin could feel his scrotum tightening, the muscles around the base of his erection jumping and throbbing with renewed desire. Even his anus was fluttering, the ring of muscle opening and closing like a little nether-mouth, gaping and hungry to be…to be…oh. Oh.

You didn’t last long as a child slave in Mos Espa if you didn’t know exactly what men did with other men for pleasure—and what some men, given the opportunity, did with human boys as well. Anakin had been a consummate survivor, of course, but he’d had biddable skills that didn’t require opening his legs. Some of his friends had, though. Some of them had even claimed to enjoy it.

Anakin had never understood the appeal…until now. There was an emptiness inside of him, a howling chasm of need, insistent, demanding to be filled. His body knew what it wanted, and what it wanted was Luke.

Anakin was still stroking Luke’s erection—he’d never stopped—and it was still hard and thick. And slick with semen. Taking Luke inside his body ought to be easy. Anakin urged Luke down flat onto his back, with Anakin above and straddling his hips.

Their erections lay against each other, so similar in size and shape and color. Anakin stroked them together, entranced.

At some point, he realized that Luke was watching him. Luke’s pupils were so hugely dilated that only the thinnest rings of blue was visible around pools of fathomless black, and his mouth hung slack and slightly open. Anakin bent down to give that sweet, precious mouth quick kiss, meant to reassure. Whether by inexperience or by natural inclination, Anakin wasn’t sure why, Luke was letting Anakin control this, and Anakin wanted him never to doubt that he valued the trust Luke was placing in him.

“I want to feel you inside of me,” he said. “Luke, will you let me…?”

Luke didn’t answer; a thousand emotions flashed across his face in an instant, too fast for Anakin to decipher. He tensed. He blinked rapidly, like tears were threatening to fall. His penis, though, seemed to leap excitedly in Anakin’s grasp—and by this he understood that Luke wanted what he wanted, just the same, even if he could not speak the words aloud.

The penetration was, as Anakin had anticipated, easy. Luke’s hands grasped his waist lightly, considerately, steadying him as he guided the tip of Luke’s erection to the place it needed to be, his own erection weeping clear droplets of precome into the curls below Luke’s navel in anticipation. Anakin groaned low in his chest as he sank down onto the penetration, that burning slide as he was filled, _filled_ , so sharp, so keen, so _perfect_ , that he was helpless to resist the orgasm which seized him, lashing across his nerves like fire as soon as he was seated.

He wasn’t going to stop, though, not a chance of that, and he was already rocking back and forth, bouncing up and down, twisting himself into the penetration before the orgasm had even fully receded. It felt so good, so good, _so damn good_ , and he couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, could hardly _breathe_ , his entire world, his galaxy, his universe was this exquisite feeling of fullness, this secret caress, and as if from a far distance he felt Luke drawing up his knees, digging his heels into the bedding to give himself leverage so that he could thrust up, up, up into Anakin, matching Anakin’s rhythm, exceeding it, and Luke’s prosthetic hand was pinching his hip, bruising the flesh there, but it didn’t matter, it didn’t matter a whit because Luke, oh, beautiful, beautiful Luke, was coming, coming inside of Anakin, and the pleasure seemed like it could last forever…

…and if Anakin could make this last forever, this…this… _thing_ he had discovered with Luke, he would. Yes, _yes_. He vowed to himself that he would.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after, plus one door and many questions. Some of the questions may even have answers!

Anakin wasn’t sleeping, but his eyes were closed, and the warmth of Luke’s embrace, the soothing rhythm of Luke’s breathing, the slow rise and fall of his chest against Anakin’s—they were all so much more restful than mere sleep. Anakin sighed contentedly and savored the languor in his joints and muscles, the lingering ache of pleasant exertion, and the musky, mingled scents of earlier lovemaking. If it weren’t for that annoying, low-level buzz of chatter and tittering coming from outside the hut, the moment would be perfect, absolutely perfect.

“Goh ’way,” Anakin mumbled into the crook of Luke’s neck.

“Mmm…?” The body against Anakin’s shifted and started to rise. Luke, it seemed, was already half-awake as well.

“Wasn’ talkin’ tuh you…” Anakin tugged on Luke’s shoulders with a touch of petulance. He wanted them to stay as they were. He didn’t want to have to get up and start another day of Luke’s boring “chores” quite yet.

But Luke jerked up abruptly and freed himself from the mess of bedding. “Hey. Hey! None of your business!” he snapped. His voice was directed outside the hut. He wasn’t talking to Anakin.

Anakin sighed again, with exasperation this time, and rolled over. He opened his eyes and squinted, wincing a bit, waiting for his eyes to adjust. He could see Luke standing in the entrance of the hut, facing out, arms akimbo, his naked body limned in sunlight and blocking most of the view. Between the upside-down vee of Luke’s legs, though, Anakin glimpsed an impromptu assembly of what looked to be the entire island’s population of Caretakers. Though Anakin still couldn’t understand a word of the Lanai language, the half-scandalized, half-delighted sounds of their burbles were unmistakable: They were clearly enjoying the show.

None of the stone huts on Ahch-To had doors, and that included Luke’s. Perhaps it was a bit too much to expect a modicum of privacy.

***

Luke had instructed Anakin to remain in bed while he was gone, and Anakin had agreed without protest. Lazy teenager’s prerogative, as Obi-Wan would say. Besides, he’d assumed that Luke was just off to the shoreline to milk thala-sirens or the high hills to gather porg eggs, and truth be told, Anakin wasn’t especially hungry. Well, not for _food_ , anyway.

When Luke reappeared an hour or so later with a durasteel panel strapped to his back that looked like it’d come from the wing of a small spaceship, however, Anakin did entertain second thoughts. Was there a ship nearby? One that might be usable?! Or at least fixable by a someone as a brilliant at fixing things as Anakin?! And why hadn’t Luke told him?!

“Is that panel from the wing of a ship? A starfighter? Is the corrosion caused by seawater on Ahch-To? It looks to be in very poor condition—does the ship fly…? No…?” Anakin asked, insistent. “Hmm, does that paint say ‘Red Squadron’? I’ve never heard of a battle group by that name before. Which system does it come from? Is the system part of the Republic?”

Luke’s replies were confined to non-committal, wordless grunts. It didn’t seem like he was being deliberately evasive or deceptive. Rather, Anakin got the distinct sense that Luke didn’t think Anakin would appreciate any of the answers.

Anakin continued peppering Luke with further questions, even so, but Luke was focused on affixing the panel to the entrance of his hut to create a door, and Anakin was being undeniably distracting. Eventually, Luke stopped acknowledging Anakin’s questions altogether.

Then, after the door was completed and securely barred shut against curious Lanai fish-eyes, Luke rejoined Anakin in bed, and suddenly Anakin discovered that he had better things to do with his mouth than ask Luke questions with it. Much, _much_ better things to do. Those things were so wonderfully diverting, in fact, that he may have forgotten that he’d even had questions about the durasteel panel’s mysterious provenance in the first place.

***

The joy of newfound love made the next few days on the rainy, windswept island blur together in a heady procession of radiant, carefree bliss. The gloom of Ahch-To and of the galaxy at large could not enter in when the door to Luke’s hut was closed. The tiny, shared universe of Luke and Anakin was all that mattered.

And so, Anakin made a deliberate decision _not_ to pursue his questions about the provenance of that durasteel panel. He would be grateful for the affordance of privacy it granted the two of them and leave it there. Besides, he wasn’t even sure he was actually in such a hurry to leave anymore, full stop. Not without Luke, anyway.

Still, at one point, between bouts of energetic lovemaking, a very different sort of question did occur to Anakin, and when it did, he did not hesitate to ask it. Truth was, it was really less a question and more a request for confirmation of something he’d already come to strongly suspect.

“The lothwolf made of stars that guided me here—that was _you_ , Luke, wasn’t it?”

They were spooned together, with Anakin wrapped possessively around Luke. He could feel Luke stiffen against him and suck in his breath, and he knew Luke was frowning even without being able to see his face. “I-I…” Luke began.

“A part of you, I mean,” Anakin amended swiftly, his tone gentle. He’d never mentioned the lothwolf made of stars to Luke before, and this wasn’t meant to be a confrontation. “The part of you that was lonely. The part of you that didn’t want to—that _couldn’t_ —go on alone after the tragedy which befell you. The part of you that needed me to be here with you.”

Luke shuddered. A strange, broken sound, almost a sob, escaped from his mouth. Anakin held him more tightly, rocking him like a youngling tormented by nightmares and in need of comfort. Oh, he was trying so very hard to be reassuring, to be grown-up, mature!

“You’re not wrong,” Luke admitted at last.

Anakin nodded. Energy could be neither created nor destroyed. Neither could Force-sensitivity. When Luke chose to suppress his powerful presence in the Force, to cut himself off from it, the portion of him which was embedded within the numinous energies of the galaxy did not go away. Instead, it just went…elsewhere…to that strange, other-dimension which had brought Anakin here. When Luke had lifted him out of the Well of the Dark Side, that’s when Anakin had first known it, though he’d been too weak at the time to properly process the information: Luke in the fullness of his Jedi Mastery had felt exactly like the lothwolf made of stars. They were one and the same.

Now, there was only a single, lingering, niggling thing about their situation that Anakin really, _really_ couldn’t understand. “What I don’t understand is—why _me_?”

 

TO BE CONTINUED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh. A cliffhanger. ;-)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke says some revealing things, and Anakin makes an important decision about the future. Also: More sex!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m probably gonna jinx myself, but at the moment it’s looking like maaaybe I’ll actually be able to finish this thing within a single, argh, _year_. Pray for me.

Luke was silent for so long that Anakin wondered if he might simply refuse to answer the question. Finally, though, he pulled back slightly from Anakin’s embrace so that they could look at each other face to face. His bright, clear eyes held Anakin’s gaze as he started to speak.

“To be perfectly honest? I don’t know.” The words came slowly, painfully. He was obviously unused to making personal disclosures. “I wondered that myself. I even thought that you might not be real at first, that you might be a…well”—here Luke seemed almost to choke—“I thought you might be just an apparition.”

Anakin blinked. An apparition…? Oh, come on! That was ridiculous! Luke was a Jedi Master, not some superstitious youngling; surely he was too learned and wise to believe in ghosts!

“But then I realized that shouldn’t be possible in light of the nature of my penance,” Luke continued, ignoring Anakin’s skepticism. “The foreclosure of certain…shall we say… _possibilities_ …was, after all, a part of the reason I undertook it in the first place. But perhaps, in remaining alone, in believing that I _needed_ to be alone, I was deceiving myself. Perhaps you are right that I was lonely and in need of companionship. So perhaps you are here because you are the only one who _could_ be here.”

Hmm. It felt like the truth. Of that, at least, Anakin was certain. And if there was one thing about the universe that he’d never questioned, it was his own specialness, his unique destiny. He’d no reason to believe that Luke was to be his _only_ lifelong purpose, but he could believe that Luke was destined to be _one_ of them—and they certainly did feel meant for each other. Eventually, Anakin figured, he’d be able to convince Luke to end his self-imposed exile…and then? Then Luke would have to return to civilization. Somehow. Well. They would figure that out later. Now, though, Anakin imagined what it would be like to have this powerful Jedi Master in his proverbial corner—one so powerful his energies could walk between worlds and open weird circular gates so that others might do the same? What great things might they accomplish together? Surely then Obi-Wan, Yoda, and the rest of the Jedi High Council would give Anakin the respect he was due!

“Yes. Yes, of course,” Anakin said, stroking Luke’s cheek affectionately. Ah, he was beautiful! _And eminently persuadable_. “ _Of course_ I’m here for you. I’ll _always_ be here for you.”

Luke made another choked sound in the back of his throat and buried his face against Anakin’s neck. He was seeking comfort and closeness, and Anakin felt himself responding with protectiveness that was practically paternal…as well as renewed heat that was definitely _not_ paternal in the slightest.

He pulled Luke back into a tight embrace, unashamed of the way he had become instantly, urgently erect. His hips began to undulate of their own accord, rubbing against Luke’s thigh. Luke sensed the swift change in Anakin’s priorities and accepted it without hesitation, his soft sigh tickling behind Anakin’s ear a half-second before his soft beard was tickling the top of Anakin’s collarbone as he laid a line of soft, sucking kisses along it.

Anakin pushed more firmly against Luke, delighted by the unequivocal welcome he felt from Luke’s body, by the curving length of Luke’s own swelling erection against Anakin’s belly. The need was intensifying, and Anakin pushed even more firmly still, making his aim poor, the tip of his penis sliding not against Luke’s thigh but rather against his scrotum, and then around and behind it, into the crack between his buttocks, where a thick tangle of hair hid—

“Do you want that of me?” Luke asked.

Anakin had been about to apologize for the audacity, for the unintentional presumption, but… But. Anakin shuddered convulsively as desire, hot as a lava flow, swept through him.

“It’s all right. You can have me,” Luke said, “because…because I want it with you too.” Then he parted his legs.

Anakin didn’t need to be told twice. Slick fluid was pouring out from his penis, the pulses so abundant and powerful and sweet that Anakin thought he might have started ejaculating spontaneously…but no, when he chanced a look down at himself, the fluid was almost perfectly clear. He decided that this improbable physiological response was a natural prelude to penetration, that his body knew its business, knew what was needed to prepare and give pleasure to a partner, and that it was a sign to proceed.

Luke lay on his back, willing and submissive, his legs splayed open for easy access. Yet he was almost painfully tight as Anakin pressed into him, and by this Anakin knew Luke had no prior experience with penetration. He’d have to be gentle; it was no less than Luke deserved. So he took things as slowly as he could stand, the slide questing, gradual, stopping altogether whenever there was the slightest flicker of discomfort on Luke’s face. When, finally, after an age, he was as deep as he could go, their groins crushed together, he bent forward and seized Luke’s mouth with his own, a passionate, deep-breathed kiss.

“Have me,” Luke said again when the kiss broke.

So Anakin did.

They started moving in unison, and Anakin stopped thinking after that. There were only the delicious thrusts, the push and the pull, the sweat-salt slides of flesh on flesh, the rich sounds and scents of sex. Luke had spilled himself the first time long ago yet seemed insatiable. His fingers dug bruises into Anakin’s shoulders and sides. _More, more, more._ Urged on thusly, Anakin came again and again and again, each ejaculation into Luke’s body but whetting the flame of his desire and making it burn hotter, until the white light of shared ecstasy was so intense that there was no beginning and no end.

There was only Anakin and Luke, together. Becoming one.

***

Luke had overslept. That was unusual. Normally, Luke would be bustling off to attend to some thankless chore or another around the island when the suns were this high in the sky—milking thala-sirens, perhaps, or gathering porg eggs, or rekindling the cookfire for breakfast—

Hmm. Breakfast. Ah yes, breakfast would be nice. And it was occurring to Anakin that maybe he could do that himself. And for Luke. He could do it for Luke. It would be a surprise. Yes, yes, that’s exactly what he would do! Luke would be so pleased!

Quietly, so as not to disturb Luke’s continued slumber, Anakin slid out from beneath the blankets covering them both, ignoring the lingering stickiness that was proof positive of their union, and got dressed. Success! He’d managed to do that without awakening Luke.

Okay, now to make his great escape. Quietly, _quietly_ …that new door might squeak on its hinges and give away the game…

Anakin’s fingertips brushed the door that Luke had made. Fact was, this door said far more about Luke’s intentions towards Anakin than Luke himself ever had, and what it communicated was reassuring. See me, the door seemed to say. See that I am no flimsy thing; see that I am solid and meant to last. While I am here to stand guard, the chill wind and the driving rain cannot enter. You who dwell within will be protected. You who dwell within will be safe.

Luke had made this door for their future. _Their_ future, his and Anakin’s. _Together_.

Oh…oh, _Luke_ …

Anakin turned to look back at Luke. He still slumbered peacefully. Each breath was steady and deep. His mysterious demons did not torment him. Whatever they were, whatever their cause or their source, perhaps Anakin’s presence would keep them at bay. Perhaps, with Anakin here, Luke could begin to heal.

Anakin knelt down at Luke’s bedside, smoothed Luke’s hair back from his forehead, and brushed his lips tenderly against the exposed skin. No fearsome Jedi Master, this. This Luke was small and vulnerable-seeming and, yes, so very beautiful. Anakin felt his heart swell in his chest, the ache of love so intense it _hurt._ But it was a good hurt.

Luke murmured something unintelligible and seemed to smile in his sleep.

“I’ll be back soon,” Anakin promised.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


End file.
